


When the Clock Turns Back

by TheStrange_One



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [8]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Language, hinted child abuse, kids being kids, overwhelmed Tony and Steve, turned to kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: Peter is called to the Tower only to discover that Wade has been turned into a child with no memory of their time together.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054064
Comments: 14
Kudos: 278





	When the Clock Turns Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BushBees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BushBees/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [CheekSmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekSmile/pseuds/CheekSmile). Log in to view. 



> So. Last year, I did one where Peter got turned into a kid. This year, it's Wade's turn. Please enjoy.

Peter quickly webbed himself to the Avenger’s Tower, heart beating loudly in his chest. What could have happened? What could possibly have made Tony, with his consummate “I don’t give a fuck” attitude, sound so worried and harried? What could possibly have happened to Wade?

JARVIS must have been on the lookout for him, because the window opened as Peter landed on the side of the Tower. “Sir is in the common room,” JARVIS primly informed the masked vigilante now in the tower, “and requests that you, quote, ‘Hurry the fuck up,’ unquote.”

“Thanks J,” Peter called absently as he ran towards the Avenger’s common room. His mind was whirling with scenarios that could possibly have happened. He tried to brace himself for the worst; he’d _seen_ the worst when he’d worked with them after so many missions gone wrong. People injured, demoralized, tortured—

And he knew that Tony didn’t care much for Wade. He’d been so concerned when Wade excitedly told him that he’d been invited special for an Avenger’s mission by Tony. Peter’s heart had clenched, because he knew that when Tony called for Wade “special,” he meant he had a mission that required someone Tony considered disposable. However, all he had asked was that Wade try to be careful.

Well, that had been all that he had asked _Wade_. He’d stopped by the Tower before the mission to read Tony the riot act about using Wade like a disposable tissue. He wasn’t sure how much Tony understood of the lecture, seeing as how Pepper had cut it short with a business meeting that Tony “had to go to.” (Peter thought that maybe she’d been rescuing Tony from him, but had no proof. And no desire to go against Pepper. She was a force to be reckoned with.)

The chaos in the common room was nothing like what Peter had ever seen before. There were small children everywhere, running around in overlarge shirts. One of them, a dark-haired boy with only one arm, was smacking Tony’s thigh and scowling. A blond and sandy haired kid were picking on a kid with long, light brown hair ignoring the way they kept getting hit. After a moment of taking in the room Peter realized there was another dark-haired kid plastered against the wall with wide eyes, as though afraid of the chaos.

“What’s going on?” asked Peter.

Tony looked at him and Peter was startled by the expression of sheer relief on his face. “Look!” he said pointing. “A kid-friendly superhero! Go attack—meet him!”

Peter found himself the focus of attention. The children stared at him warily. Peter jerked a thumb towards Tony. “Ignore him,” he said. “He’s old.”

The blond kid snorted. “ _You’re_ old,” he insulted—but he sounded intrigued and Peter knew that tone was just as important as words when it came to children.

Peter scoffed. “You don’t know that. You can’t tell how old I am—I’m wearing a mask!”

“But you’re super tall!” protested the sandy haired kid.

“Of course I’m super tall! I’m a superhero! Have you ever seen a short superhero?” Peter mentally apologized to Wolverine as he said it.

“That’s not fair,” said the kid with one arm approaching Peter. “There’s no reason a superhero can’t be short, or spindly, or have asthma!” The kid scowled at him.

Peter made a big show of scratching his head. “Well,” he said as reasonably as possible, “I think you’re right. There’s no reason someone like that _can’t_ be a superhero.” The kid looked pleased.

“If you’re really a superhero,” said the blond wickedly, “prove it.”

Peter jumped up to the ceiling and clung there as he looked at the kids. Then, not quite thinking that was a enough, he shot a couple of webs across the room.

“Do you have to ruin my paint?” asked Tony, pained. At least his tone made the kids giggle. “The maintenance crew won’t come up here anymore, so I have to do it myself!”

Peter gave an acrobatic flip as he dropped to the floor. “We both know,” he said with a grin, “that you have bots to do that for you.”

“Not the point!” Several of the kids giggled again.

“And the webbing will dissolve with no harm to your wall or the paint behind it, in a couple of hours,” Peter continued.

The blond and sandy haired kids snickered and the blond looked at Peter. “I like you. You have _style_.”

Peter gave a mocking salute as Steve, carrying two huge trays filled with food, hurried into the room. “I’ve got food!” he said, sounding desperate.

Peter stared. Not once, in all the time that he’d known Captain America, had he ever seen the man look so—so _frazzled_. His hair was mussed up, there were odd white marks (that kind of looked like flour) all over his clothes, and his eyes kept darting around the room, as though he was expecting to be attacked at any moment. What was going on?

Most of the kids swarmed the food, but the blond one stayed next to Peter for a moment. “What a nervous Nellie,” the blond said with a sneer. “One _little_ firecracker and he goes all over jelly.”

“To be fair,” said Peter gently, “he’s a soldier. When he hears a noise like a firecracker, he thinks _gunshot_ , and he’s taking cover.”

“Huh.” The kid’s hands brushed against hips, as though the kid was trying to put them in pockets. “Never thought of that.”

“Why don’t you go get some food?” Peter suggested. “Before it’s all gone,” he added. Damn, but these kids sure were packing the food away.

The blond watched him with wary eyes for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Kay.”

Peter made his way over to Tony. “What happened?” he asked in as low a voice as he could manage. He didn’t want the kids to know that they were being talked about.

Tony rubbed his face and spoke in normal tones, not even bothering to lower his voice. “Magic ray. They were all caught in it. Thank God we were able to take down the sorcerer. Best guess by magic experts is that it’s temporary and no one will remember this shit except the ones who stay adults. I need you to collect your monster. He keeps encouraging Barton and I think Nat’s about to snap and kill them both.”

Peter quickly tracked his eyes to the blond kid, who was watching him warily. The kid chewed and swallowed, and Peter wondered why he didn’t see Wade in the kid before. Maybe because he didn’t expect it. Actually, he should be grateful that Tony had bothered to collect Wade _at all_ , given his usual stance of, “Eh, he’ll heal and make it back himself.”

Peter turned to Tony and clasped the man on the shoulder, pressing just enough to get the man’s attention. “Tony,” he said warmly, “I wouldn't leave a feral cat in your custody, never mind my husband.”

The blond kid perked up. “Husband?” he asked. He looked between Peter and Tony, spoon still up to his lips. “So, he’s telling the truth about us originally being bigger?”

“Yup.” Peter walked over to Wade and pulled the glove off his left hand, revealing the ring lying flush against the skin.

The ring didn’t look like much. It was just a simple gold band. What made it special was the engraving inside. First was an icon that looked like Deadpool’s mask, followed by Peter’s first name, an “&” sign, Wade’s first name, and a stylized web. Peter smiled as he looked at the engraving. Wade had been so upset that the tiny version of Peter’s mask looked so similar to Deadpool’s mask that no one could tell that they were different.

Peter showed the engraving to the kid. His eyes went wide and he pulled out (from somewhere, and Peter wasn’t going to ask too many questions since really didn’t want to know) a collar. On the inside of the collar was a gold plate with the exact same engraving—only larger. The kid looked between the collar and the ring before looking at Peter again. “How come yours is a ring, and mine is a collar?”

Because Wade was a self-sacrificing moron who couldn't help but lose limbs when he was off on missions. How did he tell a kid that his adult self had insane healing and thought nothing of losing his hands? “You kept losing the ring,” Peter said in a compromise. Steve, having heard the original argument between Peter and Wade, began coughing. “So, you thought it would be harder to lose a collar.”

“Oh.” Kid Wade looked at the collar again and then fastened it around his neck. “I thought my parents sold me like they’re always saying they’re gonna do if I’m not good. Which, like, I try, but it’s hard to be good, you know? Especially when the other kids gloat about how they have food for lunch.”

Peter’s heart twisted. He had known that there was a reason Wade didn’t talk about his family much—so far, only the one time he’d been blasted with some kind of truth spell where he had cut out his own tongue, multiple times until it wore off—but every time Peter heard about them he wanted to hurt them. That wouldn't help Wade now, however.

“Nope,” said Peter as he kept his voice casual. Good thing he’d gotten a lot of practice as Spider-Man. “You just grew up and got married.”

“Oh.” Kid Wade was silent for a moment. “So—am I superhero too?”

Peter smiled under the mask. “Yes,” he said.

Tony snorted. “That’s debatable.”

Peter straightened and turned to glare at Tony. “We’re not having this discussion again,” he said firmly to Iron Man.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I need a fucking drink,” he muttered.

Not soft enough. Steve leaped to his feet, eyes flashing, and shouted, “No cursing in front of the children!”

“They probably know all the bad words already!” protested Tony.

“Like ‘fuck’,” Wade agreed amiably, content to watch the chaos as two adults challenged each other.

“Shit,” piped up Kid Barton.

“Damn,” added the shy kid softly.

“Ass,” contributed the kid with one arm—probably Kid Bucky, if Peter had to guess.

The kid with long hair looked up and scowled and Peter wondered if she even knew English. If that was Kid Natasha, it was possible that the only language she knew was Russian.

Tony gestured to the kids as Steve turned an interesting shade of purple. “My point exactly. Capsicle, kids are not as innocent as you think.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to snort. “You only say that because every time you do a children’s charity thing one of them manages to sneak a snow cone into your suit.” That someone was Wade, but Peter had no intention of ratting his husband out. Kid Wade burst into loud laughter at the statement and Peter couldn't help but grin at him.

Tony waved a hand. “Whatever. Collect your rugrat, and get out. We’ve got enough to deal with.”

“Are you finished eating?” Peter asked Wade. “We don’t have to leave until you are, no matter what Tony says.”

“I could _force_ you out,” said Tony amiably.

“I could tell Pepper that you did,” replied Peter calmly. Tony subsided. Peter wasn’t the only one who found her a force to be reckoned with.

Kid Wade watched him for a moment. “Nah, I’m done. Later gators!” he called to the others as he walked over to Peter.

“While, ‘Dile!” Kid Barton called back.

Peter hoped that JARVIS was recording. He wanted to be able to play this back for Wade when he was back to normal. “Let’s go home,” he said as he picked up Kid Wade.

At the apartment Kid Wade looked around with interest. “Huh,” he said as he went over to an end table that held Peter’s favorite picture from their wedding.

“Is something wrong?” asked Peter as he took off his coat. He’d stopped in an alley on the way home to change back into civilian clothing.

Wade looked around the apartment. “I’ve never lived anywhere so _clean_ ,” he said. He didn’t sound upset—just puzzled.

Suddenly, a lot about Wade when Peter first met the man made a lot more sense than Peter had ever wanted it to. “We both try to keep it that way,” Peter said. He spied a dish from breakfast on the coffee table and swooped it up. “Well, we _try_ ,” he admitted, flushed. Lately Wade had been better about cleaning up after himself than Peter was.

“Still looks good.” Kid Wade grabbed the picture from the table he was standing in front of as Peter put the plate in the sink. He had never been more grateful for the fact that he’d managed to convince Wade to keep all of his weapons locked in a special room of their condo. “Who’s this ugly fucker next to you?” Kid Wade asked as he held the photo.

“Hey!” protested Peter. He was not about to let anyone, not even the child version of the man himself, call his husband ugly. “Don’t you insult my husband like that,” Peter said with a scowl.

Kid Wade’s eyes widened. “ _This_ is _me_?” he asked as he swung the picture in agitation. “What the fuck happened?”

Peter quickly strode across the room and rescued the picture from certain destruction. “It was something that happened when you got your powers,” Peter said as he put the photo back on the table. He smiled softly at it. For the wedding both Wade and Peter had worn tuxes—but they’d also worn veils over their tuxes. Peter’s veil had been blue and red, like his costume, and Wade’s had been pure white. In the picture the two veils looked almost like they were merging into each other as the two grooms laughed with arms slung around each other’s shoulders. It was one of the few pictures that Peter had of Wade, and the only one where he looked unreservedly happy.

“Huh.” Kid Wade watched Peter as he made sure the photo was in just the right spot, easy to see when entering the condo from the door. (There was another copy in just the right spot to be the first thing seen when coming in after patrols.) “So,” said Kid Wade and Peter turned his attention to the kid, “what do we do now?” The kid rocked back and forth on his feet a little.

Peter had no idea. Did he challenge the kid, who had none of the honed reflexes of his older counterpart, to a racing video game like the two of them played after patrol? Or would that be unfair with Peter’s vastly (currently) superior reflexes?

Probably best to let the kid decide. “Well,” said Peter reasonably, “I thought we might watch some of your favorite shows. And then I’ll make dinner.” True, Peter would have to make it from a box rather than scratch—he didn’t want to leave Kid Wade alone for too long—but he figured it would be better to have a hot meal.

“I have favorite shows?”

“You have your own profile,” Peter told him. He got Kid Wade situated on the couch and showed him how to work the controller before going to get Wade’s favorite blanket. He figured the kid might like the soft fabric too.

Kid Wade looked up, startled, as Peter draped the fabric around his shoulders. He touched the fabric tentatively and then scowled at Peter. “You don’t have to give me your stuff,” he said. “I’m not a _baby_.”

Peter wasn’t sure what to make of the response. “It’s _your_ blanket,” Peter said. “It might be a little ratty; you’ve had it for a couple of years.”

“Huh.” Kid Wade stroked the soft fabric as Peter sat down next to him on the couch.

“So,” said Peter, “what are we watching?”

“I dunno,” said Wade, still stroking the blanket. He handed the controller to Peter. “What’s my favorite show?”

So Peter put on _Golden Girls_ and Kid Wade enjoyed the show just as much as adult Wade did. The kid laughed and booed and cheered with the studio audience at the screen. His voice got softer and softer until Peter noticed that he was fast asleep. Peter turned the volume down, but left the show running in the background as he got up. A quick glance at his phone showed that it wasn’t time for dinner yet, but he needed to do some work. Luckily, he could do that from his laptop at the table.

He was in the middle of grading a student’s paper when he heard an ear piercing scream from the living room. Peter nearly toppled over the table as he ran to the living room where Kid Wade was on the couch, thrashing from a nightmare. Peter quickly went over to him and gently shook the boy’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay, you’re safe—”

“DON’T HURT ME!” Kid Wade jerked up and scooted to the far side of the couch, shaking, eyes wide and leaking tears as he curled in on himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Peter said gently. Although, if he knew what caused this reaction in Kid Wade, Peter might make some exceptions to his rules and hurt someone else. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you here, Wade.” He didn’t make a move to get closer, but kept crooning softly until the sobs lightened to mere sniffles and Kid Wade tried pushing the tears away.

“I’m okay,” said Kid Wade. “I’m going to be okay.” The words sounded less like affirmation of what Peter had been telling him and more a prayer.

“No one is going to hurt you here,” Peter repeated. “I won’t let them,” he added grimly. Kid Wade looked at him warily, still trying to stop his tears. “Did you have a bad dream?” Peter asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, no,” said Kid Wade. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Peter reached into the shelf under the coffee table and pulled out the tissue box, handing it to Kid Wade. “Can you—can you just stay there? Until I feel better?”

“Of course I can,” said Peter warmly as he sat in front of the couch. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Kid Wade sniffed. “How’d we meet?” he asked.

Peter smiled. “You said you were my biggest fan.” Of course, it had immediately been followed by offers to either take Spider-Man or let Spider-Man take him, but that was just how Wade was. As annoying as Peter had found at first, he was kind of used to it.

And, if he was honest, he was kind of missing it.

Peter told Kid Wade stories about his adult self’s crime fighting. “And you said, ‘No need to yell, Spidey, it’ll heal!’ Of course that wasn’t the point, and I made sure you knew it,” Peter said. As Peter talked the two of them gradually began to doze off.

Wade woke up and looked at Peter, still sitting on the floor in front of the couch, fast asleep. He remembered everything that had happened when he’d been kid size, and once again he felt his heart warm as he looked at his husband. Even knowing nothing about what kind of a kid Wade had been, Peter had thought nothing of taking him home. And had done everything possible to keep the kid comfortable, and let him know that he was safe.

Wade loved Peter so much, and he didn’t know what had happened to make Peter feel the same way, but he was grateful. Wade leaned over and gently brushed some hair out of Peter’s face. The other man stirred and blinked sleepily at Wade.

Once, Wade would have freaked to see his scarred skin next to Peter’s. But now he focused more on Peter, and didn’t (mostly didn’t) think about how strange it was to see Wade’s own horrific skin next to Peter’s smooth cheeks. “Morning, Sleepy,” Wade said teasingly.

Peter smiled and caught Wade’s hand in one of his own. “Morning,” he rasped before he yawned. “Welcome back.” Peter stood up and fell into Wade’s arms before snuggling into Wade’s chest. “Missed you.”

And if it was possible for a full heart to pop, then Wade’s was about to explode. “Missed you too,” he said softly as he hugged his husband.


End file.
